Stars do not Wax and Wane
by elrond peredhel
Summary: The sons of Feanor have destroyed the Havens of Sirion and captured Elrond and Elros, taking them away from everything they ever knew.  A revelation allows the King to find them, but will they ever truly be saved?


**Stars Do Not Wax and Wane**

The king lay tossing and turning on his cot, writhing about and twisting the sheets into a mess around his feet, before lurching up and sitting with a cry.

"No!" He yelled, bringing two guards and his best friend running in, swords drawn. Erestor crossed quickly to his friend's side and gently pushed him back onto the mattress, dismissing the bewildered guards with a nod.

"Ereinion, mellon nin, what's wrong?" He asked of the stricken king, once he managed to gain his attention.

"We have to go, now! They're in danger." He struggled against Erestor's grip, in vain, as he was again pushed down, "do you not care about the twins? I know where they are being held, Erestor, I know the location of the Fëanorien. If we leave now we can help them!" He hissed. Erestor's eyes widened in hope at the king's mention of the twins, having been their tutor until the sack of Sirion had taken them away, but then he looked doubtful.

"We have had our best scouts on their trail since your forces arrived in the havens, and nothing has turned up. Forgive me for being somewhat sceptical Hîr nin, but it is difficult to believe you could just wake up and know the answers to what we seek. The king sighed.

"Which twin is the eldest? Elrond?" Erestor nodded an affirmative. "It seems Melian's blood is particularly evident within him, his mind is stronger than anyone could believe. I know their location because Elrond projected into my dream, Erestor; I saw his journey, saw the members of the company he travels with, Valar, I even saw him from the Fëanorien's view!" Erestor had sensed the blood of their Maian ancestor ran strongly in the twins' veins from the day they were born, but he had never guessed it would manifest itself to such an extent.

"Show me." The king placed his index and middle fingers against Erestor's temples, pressing lightly. They closed their eyes and allowed the barrier between their minds to lower. Erestor gasped aloud at the sheer clarity of the images that flowed from the King's memory.

Bleak, grey mountains rose up around the small company, hemming them in and adding to the general feeling of foreboding. The horses snorted nervously- orcs were not far behind- his brother was astride one of the more skittish animals, for once not resisting his captor's grip as Maedhros expertly controlled his steed whilst supporting Elros' sleeping form. The Fëanorion in question finally quieted his horse and took a moment to gaze down sadly at his charge, but then seemed to notice the intense gaze of Maglor's riding partner and looked up for a moment, before his eyes filled with fear and grief and he looked away.

In that moment, Erestor and Ereinion saw both Elrond and Maedhros' point of view; the tired warrior, ashamed of his most recent Kinslaying, doomed to be reminded of it every time he looked at the children his brother had insisted upon saving, and the solemn child; grey eyes staring unflinchingly into those of his mother's murderer. Those eyes, so old and wise for such a young boy and yet seeming natural as, without a word, he turned to face the road ahead, lost in thought as the eldest twin so often was. Elrond had never really been one to play and laugh like other children, even when the times were good. He would more often be found reading or drawing when his brother was out with the warriors, learning how to handle his first sword.

The view abruptly turned back to Elrond's point of view only- apparently he could not only project images to others, he could control what he projected. The host rode wearily through the mountain pass, gradually having outdistanced the orcs by riding through both night and day, when they would not be able to follow. A good 20 leagues later, Maglor brought the company to a halt, noticing that the twins and a few of his men were having a hard time staying aboard their mounts. A rough camp was set up in a clearing and the twins placed in a compartment of Maglor's tent. The Fëanorien had quickly learnt that keeping them out of sight of each other was not a useful method of enforcing their control as all it did was invite whimpers of fear and loneliness and tears that neither commands nor cajoling could cease. It had since be decided that as long as the boys did not attempt to escape, they would be allowed to stay together. Why Maglor's tent? Maedhros' heart was too easily read, even by Elros, who usually was the last to notice another's emotions. Whilst both brothers regretted the sacking of Sirion, Maedhros could barely bring himself to ride the same horse as a twin, both of them being reminders of another failed attempt to retrieve a Silmaril that brought an ache to his heart that nothing could quench. The twins became uneasy in his company; Maglor however seemed resigned to his part and seemed to want to atone for this atrocity. He took the twins on; treating them as though they were the sons he had feared to sire himself, lest the curse of his oath be passed to them. He treated the boys with kindness and defended them when less scrupulous members of the company picked on them, insulting their heritage and when fear and loneliness kept them awake at night he held them, giving what comfort he could despite being the one responsible for their fear.

So it was that the sons of Eärendil curled up together in the tent of their enemy and learnt of their ultimate destination: the fortress of Maedhros in Himring. Neither Fëanorion had realised that unlike full-blooded elves, Elrond and Elros slept with their eyes closed, so when they checked and found the twins to be still, eyes only half open, they had believed them to be sleeping and had not bothered to lower their voices as they discussed their plans for the rest of the journey. Later, Elrond's brow furrowed in his sleep as his mind reached out to anyone who might be looking for them; seeking Erestor, he was surprised to encounter the high King, but assured of good intentions, he told Ereinion Gil-Galad everything.

Ereinion released Erestor's head, pulling back to look his friend in the eyes.

"Now tell me I don't know where to find them." Erestor sighed.

"The detail is astounding, I cannot disagree when you say Elrond is powerful; to be able to project so clearly over such a distance at his age is truly incredible, but," here he looked troubled, and waited until a look from Ereinion bade him continue, " are you sure they are in danger? You know from experience that the fortress in Himring is extremely well defended; gaining entry would be far more costly to us than we can afford now and they will be safe there for the moment." The king glared,

"Safe from without, yes. But what about from within, Erestor? What about those who already call for their deaths? The term Peredhel is not meant in jest or affection my friend, and whilst they are in Himring there is nothing we can do to protect them from those who wish to finish what was started at Sirion, who see the children as a future threat that would be best neutralised now, before they gain strength and are still helpless!" The king took a deep breath to steady him, "I will not leave them to that fate, they deserve better." He swung off of his cot and quickly pulled on his riding gear and armour, strapping his sword around his waist and grabbing Aeglos as he swept out of the tent. Erestor followed, knowing that now his friend's mind was made up, nothing would dissuade him from this course, nothing short of rescuing the twins.


End file.
